


In Season

by hybridshade (shimyaku)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Daddy Kink, Disguise, Dubious Consent, Genderfuck, Het and Slash, Holiday Fic Exchange, Identity Reveal, Other, Pre-Series, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Pollen, girl!Dean Winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimyaku/pseuds/hybridshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's on a hunt and Dean gets himself caught up in it when he disobeys an order to stay at the motel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skeletncloset (alexa_dean)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexa_dean/gifts).



> **A/N:** Written for [](http://alexadean.livejournal.com/profile)[**alexadean**](http://alexadean.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/)**spn_j2_xmas** exchange!
> 
> I'm nervous as hell posting this for several reasons, the least of which is that you're an flisty and I know already that you like my fics and I respect your opinion quite a lot, so I really hope I don't disappoint. More than that, omg I wrote angsty John/Dean?! And I actually wrote this at the last minute because what I was working on started getting too long and there was no way I'd get it finished in time (story of my life). Also also, the fact that when I got this assignment I didn't know you at all, and then the simple coincidence that you friended me out of the blue and how we discovered that we're on such the same wavelength... mind = blown! \o/

 

John wonders if he's about to stumble in to something greater than he can handle. Except that he's the best hunter he knows and someone has to check things out, make sure whatever's going on around here doesn't get out of hand – he'll shut it all down if he has to. And he doesn't trust anyone else to take care of it, either.

He's speeding down some empty stretch of road in the Impala with his destination on the approaching horizon. He's got Dean beside him in the passenger seat, out to it with his head leaning on the window glass, and Sammy's in the back with his head in a book. Dean's approaching twenty, he's tall but agile, well-muscled but not bulky, and he'll be as good as John in a few years' time, if not better. Come next birthday he's going to give the boy the Impala for good, put himself in that big-ass truck Bobby's been fixing up for him. Dean's already proven himself with a handful of solo hunts, so it's only right.

John prides himself on good planning, and he's going to have to be prepared for what lay at the end of this road. There's been reports of an inordinate amount of rapes, women needing the morning after pill, even orgies in public places, then all followed by the deaths of several of the men involved, seemingly by their own hand. The people say there's something in the water making their men go mad, the authorities are blaming either a gang or a cult – they're not sure which, yet, but they'll report back as soon as they know.

He knows better, though. At first he'd reckoned it was some kind of sex pollen, or maybe a succubus spreading its disease around. But then he'd remembered the tail end of a story he once read, back when he'd still been a bit green around the edges and a cynic in his spare time. It was something straight out of a fantasy book, something to do with fairies – or nymphs, to be more precise. There was so little lore on the things it was hard to differentiate.

Apparently these elemental nymphs went through some weird, singular, en masse breeding cycle once every hundred years or so. The nymphs all gather in one place and any male of any species nearby is likely to lose his head regardless of where he is or who he's with.

But just like he said, he's planning ahead. John's got his hands on a neat little recipe that should keep him in control no matter what kind of fae he's faced with – that's the expectation, at least. He's not sure what'll be required of him. If it's all fun and games that's one thing, but he's just as happy to cut them all down and put an end to their whimsical madness.

~//~

Dean slips on his favourite leather jacket and tells Sam he's heading out, and not to wait up or say shit to dad about it.

The old man had ordered him to stay inside that night, not to leave under any circumstances, but Dean was young, impressionable, with rebellion to spare. And there was a bar right across the room from their motel. Go figure.

He's not technically of age yet, but he's got a fake ID that gets the job done. He downs a shot first, just to get the buzz going, and then orders a beer, settling in on a bar stool in the corner that offers a perfect view.

The bartender is sweet enough, and he chats her up for a few, but she's got a job to do and can't hang around with Dean alone. That's okay, though, because Dean spots himself one very fine piece of blonde-haired ass over by the pool table, and doesn't hold back before heading over there to make his move. He's got one thing on his mind and he doesn't intend to leave without it. He takes on her and her friend at a game, letting them win like a true gentleman, and it's only a few drinks later that he's got her outside, pressing her delicious curves up against the back wall of the building.

He uses all his usual lines and she giggles in the way that only naughty girls do. She flutters her lashes, licks her lips, and Dean's hand – already roaming around beneath her skirt – toys with the edges of her panties.

In the worst timing ever, someone calls out her name and she moves to pull away, but Dean holds her fast. Is she really gonna leave him hanging like that? Will she come back? Maybe she's got a room they could go to? He's been told he's particularly skilful with his tongue – doesn't she wanna find out?

Something flashes in her eyes, and it's not just the anger he might have expected. Dean curses himself for being so stupid.

His blonde vixen tells him she's gonna teach him a lesson and it's the last thing he remembers.

~//~

It doesn't take long for John to find his destination. He'd followed directions to an ancient forest grove just outside of the town and after that he just let the insistent throbbing of his groin lead him onward. The air itself is potent, has him on edge and jonesing for a good fuck, but he'd taken his elixir and no doubt his head is a whole lot clearer than it would have been otherwise. When he happens upon the circle it almost feels like an accident, but that seems almost laughable considering how big it is, as well as the fact that the whole forest clearing that he's faced with is glowing an eerie green colour, so bright it almost hurts his eyes and yet he can't bring himself to look away.

There are naked women – no, not women, _nymphs_ – as far as the eye can see. They tumble about wildly on the grass, locked in various states of embrace with all manner of men and creatures. They were of the earth, as ever-changing as nature, so apparently all they needed in order to breed was jizz – regardless of whether it originated from man or beast.

John decides that he's seen enough, needs to get in on the action instead. He notices the presence of numerous men from around the town, one of whom he'd seen at the gas station earlier, and the nymphs are calling to them like bitches in heat. Clearly no harm is being done, so why deny them all a little good-natured fun?

Something in the grove sings to him, and John finds himself moving forward, being led by some unseen force. He steps into the green light and it's like stepping into liquid sex. He's seeing it, breathing it, tasting it. Moans and cries of pleasure assault his ears from every direction, so caught up in their mating.

The nymphs who haven't yet caught themselves a man are still there, lying around on the grass and playing with each other instead. Though, as John draws near they turn their eyes toward him, splaying themselves seductively, like birds of paradise fluffing their feathers.

One particular female catches his eyes. She's the only one by herself that he can see, and it's as if his cock has a direct line to his brain, telling him that yes, she's the one.

He kneels down in front of her, cupping her radiant face in his hands, thumbing her full lower lip. Her head jerks as if to turn away, but she doesn't pull back, and it occurs to him that she's scared. In fact, something about her screams it. Maybe she's young, maybe it's her first time, maybe she's not been with a human man before. Either way, this isn't John's first rodeo and he intends to show her just how good it is.

He tells her she's beautiful, that he could drown in her pretty green eyes, whatever flattering thought pops into his head. She says nothing, but as he touches her, slides his fingers down her throat and over her breasts, flicking her nipples, she opens up to him like a flower, begging him in without a word.

He kisses her, indulges in her earthy taste, and aligns their bodies. He's still clothed, but she still brushes the inner edge of her thigh against him, silently asking. He slips his hand down between her legs – finally – and maps out the warm folds of her, teasing her clit, smirking when his fingertips come away sticky wet.

She's so ready for him, and John sits back to undo his jeans. He fumbles with his belt buckle and she tenses beneath him, her features twisting as if she's trying to say something but can't get her mouth around the words.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he tells her, "I'm gonna take real good care of you."

John shucks his jeans down to his knees and leans back over her, only to have her shake her head in his face. He frowns for a moment until he suddenly gets it, and he takes her slight form in hand, easily flipping her onto her knees. He catches a quick glimpse of her wide-eyed horror, but then all he can see are the smooth planes of her back, the perfect swell of her ass.

Leaning in to scent her hair, John presses the length of his body against her, letting her feel the strength and power in his frame. His dick is hard as it's ever been, and it sits in the crease of her ass, sliding up and down when he moves his hips, promising more. He shoves two fingers inside her without preamble, just to see, but they go in easily and without resistance. She's surely no virgin. With everything going on, it's probably just some act she's playing to lure him in. It worked.

Unable to bear waiting a moment longer, John takes his dick in hand and lines himself up, pushing slick and easy into her body. She trembles and cries out, clamping down around him – still playing the innocent act – and John pulls her firmly back against him, twisting her head so he can see her face. She's flushed and her eyes are tear-filled, messy, but he only wants her all the more because of it.

He lets her go, lets her drop back onto her elbows, and takes hold of her hips.

John fucks her like he's in a hurry. He doesn't really know why, just that there's something in the back of his mind whispering that that's what he needs to do. _Take her like she's begging for it, like the world's ending._

She's whimpering with every forward thrust until she chokes, coughing a moment until he hears it.

" _Dad._ "

He stops.

Considers her teary green eyes, imploring him.

And grins.

"Oh, so you like that, huh?"

She's so hot around him, so wet and stretched tight, it's got to be some sort of crime to keep her on edge like this. And he wouldn't want to do her wrong, would he? He's no criminal. Her body might be, though. So amazing it can't be real.

"You like having Daddy's dick inside you, baby?"

She groans in response and the whole thing is so goddamn hot he can hardly stand it. John leans over her fully, curling an arm around her chest to hold her back against him and taking the chance hold her pert breast in his palm. The other one is pressed against his forearm and it bounces with each forceful thrust of his hips, her nipple pressing in to the skin nearer his elbow.

"Daddy's gonna come inside you real soon, baby. You ready for me?"

John chuckles when she squirms against him, unwittingly clamping down on his cock, and he goes hell for leather racing toward his release. The slope of her neck seems to be taunting him all the while so he bites down on it hard, sucking what will become a dark bruise onto the side of her throat. It gives him a single moment of feeling that he's truly claimed her, more than just with his dick, that is.

When he comes it bowls him over like a tidal wave, pulling the wind out of him so suddenly he almost forgets to take a breath. He can't remember the last time an orgasm felt this good but he knows it's all because of the pretty little nymph in his arms. He'd go again if he could, but he's not as young as he used to be and he feels a crushing exhaustion lingering at the edges of his consciousness.

There are still men and creatures and nymphs by the dozen, going at it in whatever direction he chooses to look. Hell, they'll probably be there until dawn at this rate, but John thinks he knows that there's somewhere he needs to be. He gets up, fixes his jeans, and walks away from the nymph, still lying naked on the grass and not able to look at him.

~//~

Dean makes it back to the motel in the early hours of the morning. It's still dark out when he unlocks the door as silently as he can manage, and he pads lightly into the main room, freezing when his eyes adjust and he finds the silhouette of his father sitting on the ratty sofa by the tv.

"You been out, boy?

"Yessir," he replies automatically, though his voice sounds anything but certain.

John looks up at him and Dean can't move. For all the several layers of clothing he's wearing he still feels utterly exposed, like his father can see right through him, see the truth of what went on earlier that night. And, fuck, he's John fucking Winchester. Maybe he can.

"C'mere, Dean."

He takes a few steps closer and stops. Dean feels all wrong in his skin, a bit like he's wearing someone else's clothes, and John's eyes on him only make it worse. He can't help remembering that strong body stretched out over his back, the muscles flexing against him, that pressure inside his abdomen.

When he'd woken in that body that didn't belong to him, when he'd realised what was going on, he'd wanted to die at first. He was prepared to be punished for being a douche – whip him, chain him up, just _anything_ but that. And then when John had appeared? It was like the sickest joke ever had come to life, yet with all the magic in the air he'd already been floating in a drug-like haze of arousal and his body had refused all attempts to make it cooperate.

Even so, he'd fought like hell at the start. Being in the wrong body was one thing, having his dad holding him and caressing him, telling him he was beautiful – that was in a completely different ball park. His body had forced him to give in, though. John's actions couldn't have been stopped. He'd looked slightly more clear-headed then some of the other men that had passed him by, but still his desire had been dictated by whatever ritualistic orgy-type-thing had been going on around them, like some sort of sex spell.

It was difficult enough here in the dark, but Dean had no idea how he'd face his father again come the morning.

"Thought I told you to stay inside," John growls, but thankfully quiet enough to keep from waking Sam in the other room.

"You did. But I went out anyway. Couldn't help myself." It's the truth. As much as he can stand to give.

"Oughta punish you, but you're practically an adult now, boy. And there's jus' somethin' in the air tonight… You catch some tail?"

"Sorta… Maybe not in the way I expected, though."

There's the sound of a smile in John's words. "Sometimes the unexpected can turn your world upside down."

"That's one way to put it."

His father eyeballs him, his brow arched in interest, but there's no way the words will ever leave Dean's lips.

He'll be dreaming about it for weeks, months probably. There's no way he won't. The sensation of that hot breath on the back of his neck, large hands bruising his hips from how tightly they're holding him. Then that feeling of another man's dick, thick and pulsing, spearing into a part of his body that doesn't actually exist. Dean can still feel it, though, as if it were still there inside him. It still burns when he thinks about it, the way he'd felt it resonating through his entire being, the endlessly building pleasure that he didn't want but still couldn't imagine going without.

Dean turns abruptly, facing the closed door of the second bedroom where Sam's sleeping and there's an empty bed waiting for him. His cheeks heat at the realisation that he's grown half-hard in his jeans, and all at once he's both desperate to jerk himself off to his memories and to puke his guts out at the thought of it. He just needs to—

"Stop right there."

Bare feet pad across the scrappy carpet and then there's suddenly a stark heat radiating along his back. A fingertip catches the edge of his hairline and traces down under his collar, pulling the fabric away from his body. There's a sharp exhalation from behind him, followed by silence. John's head must drop down because without warning there's warm breath cascading down the back of his neck, causing his hairs to stand on end.

"How." It's barely a question.

"Fairy."

And that's all he has to say. Neither of them moves, though. They just stand there as if the world might fall away, give them an out without having to ask.

But it doesn't. And Dean has no idea how long they stand there on the precipice before John finally makes the first move, walks to the main bedroom and pointedly leaves the door open. It's as close to an acknowledgement as either of them are likely to get.

He won't be able to stay there, will have to sneak into the other bedroom before morning in order to keep their perpetual façade of normalcy, but for now he follows. He shuts the door behind him and undresses in the dark, climbing onto the bed. John kneels onto the mattress behind him. He hasn't undressed but he's removed his belt and unzipped his fly, loosened his pants enough to let his cock spring out. And Dean can feel it there poking his lower back – a blatant reminder.

Hands smooth over his back, and while it's hardly the same in this body – his _real_ one – it's not entirely that different either.

A thumb plucks at the furl of his hole and Dean has to stop himself from lurching away. It's a far cry from the way John's fingers had brushed through the warm flesh of his temporary clit, but right now all they're doing is searching, looking for any possible way of replicating that feeling from back in the forest grove. Dean knows in the back of his mind that they're doomed to fail, but they're going to try anyway.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," John murmurs, his breath rumbling in his chest and sending shivers down Dean's spine, "I'm gonna take real good care of you."

~//~

It's still several months until his birthday, but no one questions it when John gives Dean the keys to the Impala out of the blue and tells him it's _his_ car now. No one questions John Winchester, period.

Sam wants to, though. Boy, does he ever.

He knows something went on last week when they were at that creepy motel in that creepy town. Their dad had come in so quietly from his hunt he hadn't even woken Sam up, which rarely happens. And Dean had gone out when he wasn't supposed to, then come back at god-knows-what time. His brother had tried to hide it, but Sam still noticed the huge great bruise on the side of his neck and the ever-so-slight limp in his step. It wouldn't be the first time Dean had gotten involved in a hunt by accident; it was just that John clearly knew what had gone on and yet hadn't said a word. Hadn't yelled at Dean once.

But now Dean's holding the keys in his hand and John turns away as though looking at his eldest son is killing him. Dean, too, is looking like he's about to crumble to dust where he stands, but then there's a hand latching on to Sam's wrist and dragging him towards the Impala.

Sam hops in the passenger seat and breathes a silent sigh of relief that he can actually stretch his legs all the way out. Dean still doesn't seem right, but he gets behind the wheel and starts driving with the practiced ease Sam's come to expect from him. Sam is so close to asking him what's up, the words are practically jumping off the tip of his tongue, but with Dean looking as cut up as Sam's ever seen him, he just doesn't have the heart.

They drive until the sun goes down and Dean can barely keep his eyes open. They check in to a motel and Dean is out like a light, doesn't even take his shoes off.

Sam, on the other hand, takes himself to the late night internet cafe across the road and buys an hour's worth of time on one of their computers. He's looking for any weird goings on in a particular small town, approximately one week ago. Sam's good at this sort of stuff, has always had a way with books and research-type things, so if anyone can find out it's him. He's going to find out exactly what sort of shit went down to make Dean this way and then he's going to make it right, whatever that might entail.


End file.
